Grace

I have experienced Grace.
What I can tell you about it is this:

You will never know it until it touches you.
Just as you will never know Love until it loves you.
How can an Eskimo understand the heat of the Sahara?
How can a Bedouin know the cold of the Arctic?

Where Grace is
Is different from
Where Grace is not.
The difference is overwhelming.

Dispense with metaphors.
Dispense with uncertainty.
Dispense with knowing without tasting.
Dispense with protecting your life.

Grace is treasure that is lies at the end of this map:

Confess.
Apologize.
Humiliate.
Repent.
Suffer.
Receive.

Grace does not come to the strong.
Grace requires immense weakness.

It can only be found on your knees.
In a blade that slices through the back of your neck,
Passing like swift judgment,
Severing the cord of willfulness,
When all power is laid down,
And your head falls from your body,
Tumbling downward,
With no control to move,
With no ability to see what you want to see,
Nor taste what you want to taste,
Nor hear what you want to hear,
Nor touch what you want to touch,
Nor smell what you want to smell,
But surrender all knowing to the will of gravity,
As your lips kiss dust,
And your eyes look up to see what you thought you were:
Shoulders, torso, arms, and legs,
While the last drops of life-giving blood fall from
The hole in the bottom of your throat,
And your brain moves from sense to senselessness,
And you consider that you had misunderstood the situation
From the start,

In this twilight you face the Truth
That what you thought you were is not what you are,
But more,
And you become happy
For the first time in your life.